She could hear the gentle tinkle of the wind chimes, dancing in a dying breeze. But besides that and her raspy breaths, her house stood still around her in the fading light. A trickle of snot and blood ran down to her chapped lips. A light cold, that’s all the doctor said it was, but deep in her bones there was something aching, a chill she couldn’t quite shake. In the glow of her dying fireplace, she reached a veiny arm towards her night stand, where upon it lay her soaked crimson handkerchief. And with the groan of her body and her bed she almost missed the low creak of her front door opening. 

The grandmother paused, shaky frail hand in mid air, and listened. Silence, you see, is curiously sinister when you’re all alone, just you and your thoughts and what you think was your front door opening. But she wasn’t expecting anyone, and yet she could swear someone was there. 

It was there in the footsteps! So quiet, but the dark house must have hid the broken glass of her failed attempt to get water. There was a light crackling, like her joints on a rough day, that was just outside her open bedroom door. Her fire cast shivering shadows upon the wall, and she watched with panic as one of those shadows grew bigger. 

She shouldn’t move. Maybe whoever it was would take what they want and leave none the wiser to her presence. But her outstretched body was tiring, shaking alongside her fear. And the shadow continued to move closer, footsteps now like ghosts. But that sound, breath other than her own. Deeper, grainier, more animalistic. 

He entered her room, hunched over on two legs and entirely naked. He was startlingly thin, starvation shown in his ribs. His body was covered in patches of dark skin and thick coarse hair. And he seemed to be sniffing the air as he moved around the room. At the fireplace he stopped, sniffed, then turned, with the creak of a floor board, so that his dark hungry eyes now looked right into hers. And he ginned, a large maw opening to show off an array of yellow human teeth.

And he moved closer. Blood now poured freely from her nose, dripping off of her chin, and he eyed the fluid with great thirst. He was now close enough to touch her, and touch her he did. A Lumpy pink tongue darted out and began lapping at the blood. Terrified, she lost her balance and fell right into his fingered paws. They wrapped around her thin arms, bruising her bones. He was so cold, his tongue and fingers and breath. But she was too, now fully shaking. She closed her eyes when she felt him remove her clothes. And she kept them closed when she felt his teeth at her throat. 

It was hours later, now fully into the night, when a young girl in crimson red entered the house. 

As soon as the ogre queen decided,

that she had been quite misguided, 

she no longer desiring a child for dinner,

as it would do nothing for her figure.

Because no one ever had a happy ending,

if they looked so very offending.

And the ogre knew that as she was,

she bore the close resemblance of a nightmarish Santa Clause.

But so pretty was her daughter-in-law,

(thin, white, and not a single outside flaw),

and how happy her ending seemed to be,

so the ogre went for advice on how to gain this reality

At first the princess was terribly frightened, 

but it grew worse once she was enlightened. 

“But you’re ugly and fat and mean.

Don’t ruin the story,” she said to me.

“Eat my children, go ahead,

And hopefully next you will drop dead.

You are nothing like the ideal lady,

so why should your ending be anything less than shady?”

Now it was here that the ogre got angry, 

and when that happens the ogre gets hangry.

So she told the princess to set up the pot,

and would pretend it was the children she sought.

She would play the role of the bad guy,

and hopefully the princess would not see her sly.

So while the chefs prepared her feast,

she kept the floor beside the pot greased.

Just as the children were brought forth, 

the king was arriving from the north.

But the princess saw the ogre was standing too distant,

and was worried that he would notice something inconsistent.

As she stepped forth to push her closer,

the princess slipped on the grease and fell over.

Straight into the boiling pot she went,

with ow, ow, ows that spoke of torment.

Years later I met the ogre and asked,

“Just what had happened after his princess had passed?”

She told me she had gotten her happily ever ending, 

when she found out that personality, not looks, were worth defending. 

And the king, she said, had never remarried,

apparently the princess had made him quite wearied.

She supposedly had been a bitch in a cloak, 

and maybe, just maybe, thats why in her story she never spoke. 

(wanted to explore how the ideal woman is portrayed in princess fairytales and the question of why women in princess fairy tales are pitted against each other (Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, The Little Mermaid, etc..)

In light of all the recent controversy surrounding Disney's live action trailer of The Little Mermaid, I decided to dive head first into the rabbit hole of criticism and see what all the fuss is about.  

After reading the Hand Christian Anderson version and watching at 1989 adaptation I was intrigued when I saw the trailer for the live action remake…and even more intrigued at all the controversy surrounding it. After hopping on a Quora forum, I found that many people had taken offense to its dismissal of the European tradition and the “original” storyline (I would say that authorship is difficult with fairy tales) and not necessarily because the actress is black but rather because of Disney “black-washing” for money.

Halle Bailey is cast as the Ariel in the upcoming 2023 reboot and many people have things to say….

(Photograph of Halle Bailey at Walt Disney World/ October 2,2021/ ABC news)

But, if the 2023 soon to be out version is offensive in its dismissal, then I would argue that the 1989 version is also offensive for those very same reasons. 

I’m not sure if I just missed it while going to the bathroom or something, but I don’t recall Ariel’s feet ever bleeding or her finding God. And I would think that the addition of singing animals would be more disrespectful than the changing of skin color? It’s also not like the 1989 version is going away, people can still have their nostalgia, but if what they’re really looking is nostalgia then they should return to the “original” text instead. Because that’s what this nostalgia is coming from, not the storyline but a specific version of it. And at this point all we get to see is the trailer; we don’t know how much the story itself will change.

What is the best way to introduce diversity into Disney films? 

I personally do agree that Disney is just doing this for a cash grab, like all their other live action remakes, but if they are doing it i’m at least glad they are adding some new diversity. Representation in films is important, especially children’s films. However, I would honestly rather see them do an original storyline or show off stories from different cultural traditions than try to inject diversity into what is clearly another cash-grab remake. So my question is this; what is the best way to introduce diversity into remakes?